Nulle Part
by PaintMeAntagonist
Summary: On a train heading to Berlin a woman and a man share a compartment. In the matter of a few days someone's world can change. What will happen to Isabelle Reiner once she encounters Hannibal Lecter, unaware of who he is? Based upon the movie ending.
1. Enter The Lion

Summary:

On a train heading to Berlin a woman and a man share a compartment. In the matter of a few days someone's world can change. Based upon the movie ending.

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A/N: This is something I wrote in its entirety while I was writing a Phantom of the Opera fanfiction. I feel as if some of the characteristics of Hannibal Lecter and the Phantom have merged a tiny bit. I feel this is a bit out of character for Hannibal Lecter but I decided I would post it anyway. The chapters are very short and for that I apologize.

The main reason I decided to put this story up is to get some feedback on how I am portraying the Doctor. I want to get better at this and make better stories involving him.

Any reviews (so long as they contain, at the harshest, constructive criticism) are appreciated.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, or any of the creations of Thomas Harris

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**Chapter One: Enter The Lion**

Trains. He could never refuse them once the offer had been extended. Whether by travel agents or by his own ability to procure means of locomotion, it did not matter. There was something familiar about a train. The gentle tugging feeling.

He walked down the carpeted hall, stopping to study the compartment before him. The door was closed and he studied the intense grains of the wood before a hand slided it open and he entered.

At first glance it appeared he would be very much alone in the compartment. After a mere second he took in the tiny young woman sitting dangerously close to the glass window. She appeared to be pressing herself onto it in hopes of getting that much closer. Her thin brown hair was haphazardly pulled back with wisps escaping. Her bone structure seemed fairly prominent.

At the sound of the door opening she turned her head. Her large green eyes stared him down without emotion.

"Hello," He declared pleasantly. "I do hope you don't mind that I'll be sharing this compartment." He watched her head nod once before she turned her gaze away. He noticed the gentle ripple of tendons in her fragile neck as she moved.

She did not look at him as he settled himself opposite her. He placed a newspaper to his left, directly in front of her and removed his hat. His gaze never wavered from her figure. It was not at all hard to tell that she was scoping him out from the corner of her eye. He had every intention of studying her until she looked away in earnest. Until then he could try and best explain why someone so disheveled seemed so haughty and instantly untrusting of another.

He loved trains. There was always something of interest to occupy his mind.


	2. Iliad To Begin Shortly

Chapter Two: Iliad To Begin Shortly

Izzy. They all called her Izzy. She had never understood why. It wasn't the name on her birth certificate nor was it the name she preferred. Not by a long shot. Isabelle Reiner was contemplating this as the door to her compartment slid open somewhat expectantly. She fought the urge to breath out in frustration. She had been traveling by train a lot lately and not once had she ever had the compartment completely to herself.

The man standing inside the doorway was not what she had expected to find. He was middle-aged and on the shorter side of stature, not too terribly short. Nor was he as tall as he could have been. He made up for it in the way carried himself. He was confident in something, she could sense. His black hair was slicked back neatly beneath a creme colored fedora. His smile was flashingly white and pristine. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as her gut told her it was a little too eerie and near perfection for her.

After he had settled in she decided she could look back at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring expectantly at her. He was not ashamed of his curiosity. He was certainly not attempting to mask it, in any case.

She glanced at his well-polished perfection and wondered how exactly he was traveling by train. Planes ran with regularity and more conveniance. Yet here he was. She took in his crisp suit and his polished shoes. She suddenly felt incredibly underdressed in her blue jeans and oversized wool sweater. Her sneakers suddenly seemed dirty and atrocious. A strange combination, the gentleman and the misfit woman riding in the same room. She let her gaze travel back over him. Only when her eyes lingered back on his face did she realize he was still looking at her.

She fought the urge to bite out a rude remark. Instead she turned her hauntingly green eyes on him. Nothing was said for a very long minute. She thought she was most certainly going to lose her mind. She turned nervously away and pinned herself further into the corner of her seat.

She tried to focus on the scenary flying past her. Greens molded together and she could feel a dizzy sensation floating in the back of her throat. She glanced back at him. He was casually reading the paper he had brought with him.


	3. Il Gardellino

Chapter Three: Il Gardellino

The sun had set just off the horizon when Isabelle shudder awake. Her neck ached dully as she straightened her spine. She had dozed off in the uncomfortable position of her body leaning at an angle against the glass window. The dim light in the compartment shadowed her view for a moment as she blinked the sleep from her eyes.

Her stomach rumbled louldy and she attempted to placate it but placing a hand firmly on it. Sitting much as he had been when she had fallen asleep, the man was leaning back with comfort, his eyes racing down a page of Italian text. She could not read it. It was a foreign language to her.

She glanced at her watch and was startled for a moment when she registered the time. Surely, she knew, it wasn't 5:30. It appeared that the battery had died. She unlatched it with impatience and shoved it hastily in her pocket. She crossed her legs and let her foot tap out loudly on wall just below the window. It was loud and annoying even to her but she did not want to stop.

The man cleared his throat and she glanced at him from underneath her long eyelashes. "Would you like to know the time?" He asked patiently. She could feel her face flush scarlet. He pulled back his sleeve and glanced at the shining silver upon his wrist. "A quarter past 8." He offered as he returned to his reading. Her foot resumed it's tapping of it's own accord and she felt fidgeting would be the death of her. He glanced back up, no visible emotion on his face.

She reigned in her foot, lifting herself up so she could sit upon it. "Sorry." She mumbled as she glanced down with embarrassment.

"It's quite alright." He said. She did not believe him. She watched him with curiosity as he took out a long red ribbon and slipped it into the pages of the book and closed it. He looked back at her and she was struck by the pinpoints of red reflecting in his eyes. "Would you like to accompany me to the dinner car?" He asked as he stood and held out a polite hand to her. She studied it for a moment before she nodded.

"I might as well." She said brashly. She accepted his hand and was startled at the strength with which he held hers. Once on her feet, he slid the door open and beckoned her out first. He was unbareably polite, she realized. "Thank you." She summoned as she tried to recall all of the proper rules of etiquette she had once been taught. Her mind came up blank.

"You slept very soundly." He said, making conversation as they traversed down the narrow corridor. "I can't imagine it was that comfortable."

"Not in retrospect." She admitted as she rubbed at her neck. "I guess I can sleep through anything, though." He chuckled lightly and she smiled despite herself. He seemed unconcerned with her blunt attitude.

They paused as a pair of women exited their compartment, momentarily blocking the way. They studied the couple and giggled before hurrying on before them. Isabelle supressed a scowl and moved forward. "Do you wonder what they found so amusing?" He asked unconcerned as he kept up with her pace.

"I would guess it would be my appearance." She declared as she felt the sweater sway around her thin figure.

"I highly doubt anything of the sort." He offered. "It was more likely they quickly conjure ideas. Young girls do tend to romanticize every detail. Do you not?"

She scoffed and quickly tried to cover it with a cough and clearing of her throat. "I don't know. I'm hardly an expert on what young girls are supposed to act like." He studied her curiously for a moment. "I just mean that," She trailed off under her gaze. "I'm a bit of the odd one out."

"I am sure you're not as much as you like to think."

The dining compartment was just ahead of them and she quickened her pace, her stomach now making brutal sounds of anger. The car was beautifully lit with calming lights and classical music played gently in the background. Men in tuxedos seemed to play up the old train experience that tourists wanted to believe in. She had never dined in the car before and was surprised at how overly done it was. The waiter standing closest to the door smiled at her as she entered, the man coming behind her. "A table for two?" He asked.

"Yes, please." The man said without hesitation. The were led to a small table not far from where the two women sat. They glanced the man up and down as they sat and quickly fell into a chatter. The waiter handed them menus and informed them it would be just a moment. Isabelle nodded and stared at the man across the table from her.

"Isabelle Reiner." She offered as she held a hand out over the table. He smiled at her and took her hand gently.

"Hannibal Vilatvi." He said. She memorized his pronounciation instantly.

"Hannibal." She said, letting her mouth become accustomed to the name. "You certainly don't hear that everyday."

"No, I would assume you don't."

She glanced down at the menu. Options fluttered before her and all she wanted was something tangible this moment. The waiter appeared. "Can I get you anything to drink?" He asked in crisp English.

"I see here you have Salice Salentino?" Hannibal asked with curiosity.

"Yes indeed, sir." The waiter said smiling.

"I would appreciate a glass of that, if you would." The waiter nodded and turned expectantly to her.

She felt her stupidity climb as she mumbled out her order. "Diet Coke, please." The waiter nodded and disappeared again. They sat in silence for a moment. "Salice Salentino?" She questioned as she fingered the table cloth.

"It's an Italian red wine." He offered. "A prime economic source of the small village of the same name."

"I'm afraid I've never been much experienced with wine." He nodded in understanding.

"Not everyone is." The waiter returned yet again and deposited their drinks. He turned to Hannibal.

"And for your meal?" He asked.

She watched Hannibal scan the menu. "The mushrooms cardoncelli au gratin." He decided unconcernedly.

The waiter beamed. "Ah, excellent choice. All Italian for tonight." Isabelle wanted to laugh at the way his hands met together in excitement. The smirk was wiped from her face when he turned to her. "And what for the lady? A cheeseburger?" Her face went red and she glanced down.

"No, actually." She said quietly. "I would prefer Truffade with a small side of Salade Aveyronaise." The waiter shot her a dirty look and nodded. She watched him walk away. A scowl graced her lips. She looked to Hannibal to was smiling. She noted how tiny and sharp his teeth appeared this close.

"Perfectly capable of standing your own ground." He noted pleasantly.

She nodded. "Actually," She admitted quietly."my mother is French and she used to prepare that meal for me every Sunday as a treat. It's the only reason I know of it. I'm lucky they had it on the menu." Hannibal let out a soft laugh of amusement. She smiled in return. "I don't usually eat on the train when I ride." She said as she sipped her soda. "I bring a small bit of bread and usually wait it out. For that exact same reason."

"Dining can be a fine experience if you are well prepared for the snobbery." He said as he watched her. "Where, may I ask, are you from? I cannot quite detect an accent."

"Mhhm." She said as she swallowed her soda unceremoniously. "I was born in Maine. I spent much of my childhood there. When I was thirteen my mother and step-father died in a car crash and I was flown overseas to live with my paternal father in London."

"I would assume you are still very young than." He assumed.

She nodded. "I guess so. I'm twenty-one." She said as she sipped from her glass again.

"And you are headed?"

His aimless chattering was relaxing and she enjoyed it. "Berlin." She said. "I'm meeting a friend there. She is having me stay for a couple of months just for a bit of a relaxation."

"Ah, lovely." He said as he rubbed a thumb absentmindedly. She glanced at his left hand, noticing a scar. "I, myself, am headed for Berlin for a short stay before I travel to Poland."

"Where to in Poland?" She asked as she toyed with the edge of the table cloth.

"Here and there. That too is a short stay before I go on a much longer journey." He did not offer where and she did not press. He listened to the music playing and she found herself studying his face in a panic for signs of emotion. His face was calm. "Are you fond of Handel?"

"Water music, specifically." She said. "But I guess everyone is because it's so familiar." He nodded.

"Are you familiar with Vivaldi?" He asked. She shook her head. "Perhaps you should experience his Concerto number three in D Major. I'm quite fond of it."

"You have refined tastes." She said bluntly. He smiled gently at her.

"I do enjoy such things, yes."

She leaned in toward him and lowered her voice. "I don't mean to be rude but you seem a bit too refined for train travels."

"It lies in the nostalgia." He said without concern. "It is hard to explain to someone so young."

When their food arrived they ate amidst conversation, finding little bits to talk about. She found it odd that someone so much more refined in higher tastes would have so much interest in sitting with someone like her. Her bits of knowledge came from her mother. She held back the evidence that she was in love with David Bowie and that The Doors held up her world. She hid the fact that she was on her way to Berlin to paint nude couples in abstract and to drop acid and snort cocaine. She could enjoy this train ride and pretend for a second that she was what her mother was, a woman of the world.


	4. Skeletal Slumbers

Chapter Four: Skeletal Slumbers

Hannibal watched his new acquaintance sleep upon her side of the compartment. She was now sprawled out horizontally, her tiny legs hanging over the edge. She slept with all the innocence and trust of a young child and he wished she wouldn't. She did not know who he was and perhaps that was why it was so much easier for him to just watch her silently.

She had an air about her that stirred curiosity in him. Throughout dinner she had been honest about herself, about her lackings and about what she knew. She seemed to have a much graver perception of how others saw her than most. She seemed keen to understand him as well. This was partly undesirable but also a tad bit thrilling as he had to conjure up subtle ways to keep her thrown off track. It was a pleasant little game for the time being. A few days and they could both be quit of each other. It would be fun while it lasted.

She stirred in her sleep and his breath caught in his throat as her large eyes flickered open. In her hazy state she seemed caught by some monstrous thought and he watched as strange thick tears slipped down her cheeks. She cried silently, unaware that he was watching her from his corner. She brought a hand to her face and angrily swiped at the proof of her humanity.

He leaned forward, his face hitting the light and he placed a hand softly on her ankle. "Are you alright, my dear?"

Her eyes jerked to him and she shot up into a sitting position. She nodded and laughed nervously. "Yeah." He eyed her as she shook down her brown hair and turned to face the window.

"Do you often cry in your waking moments from slumber?" He asked, knowing it was intrusive.

Her green eyes turned sharply on him and he could see her words catch in her throat. She was trying to remain polite. "I don't see how that is any of your business." He nodded and turned away from her, arranging himself comfortably in his spot. He closed his eyes and waited. Silence fell harshly.

When he opened his eyes he saw her looking out the window, a small hand was pressed against the cool glass. Her reflection looked unforgiving in it's fragile nature. It would be so easy for one careless person to snuff out her light forever.

---

As the night passed Hannibal slipped into a slumber of his own. It was not an incredibly pleasant one. He was accustomed to this. Some nights he was haunted with visions of Mischa. Others it would Clarice Starling's eyes searching him for answers. This night it was of bones in kettles. Rows upon rows of them.

In the far end of the rows was cackling of insanity. Beside him, dressed in a slender white shift was Clarice. She led the way, a pinpoint of light. One glance behind him produced a new companion in his sleep. Isabelle Reiner stood just feet behind him, her thin body toiling over kettles as she looked mournfully down at the bones of a small child mixed with that of some petty bird.


	5. Lady Stardust

Chapter Five: Lady Stardust

Isabelle was sitting by herself in the far end of dining compartment, munching silently on french toast when she saw Hannibal enter the room. She felt her body steel itself to be overlooked. She forced herself to look down at her food and move slowly. The clinking of silverware on plates and gentle conversations plucked at her.

"May I sit?" His voice asked cordially. She looked up to see Hannibal looking quite pleased with the morning. She nodded and looked back to her food. They sat in silence until he had ordered. "Ms. Reiner-"

"Isabelle." She cut in. "I hate being called Ms. Reiner."

"Isabelle." He relented. "I do apologize for last night. I had no intention of upsetting you." She shook her head.

"I know." She said. "I'm not very good with people."

"I don't take it personally. I was out of bounds to request an answer to such a question."

She didn't reply. Instead she remembered how he had been sleeping when she had quietly left that morning. He had a determined, slight frown on his face as if something in his sleep were making him uncomfortable.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" He asked unexpectedly. She shook her head. "I suggest it some time. Florence is splendid and will stay with you for the rest of your life."

"Have you ever been to the States?" She asked, knowing the answer. He nodded. "Maine?" He did not answer. Instead he glanced casually out of the window near them. "What is it you do?" She asked.

"Many things." He said. "I have no limits." She was aware that he watched her for signs of confusion. "Primarily I am a doctor of behavior."

"Oh." She said, feeling the pit of her stomach drop out into nothingness. "Do you often study strangers?" She asked slightly angry.

"I am not precisely studying you, Isabelle. You interest me but I am not seeking out answers to you." She did not believe him for a moment. She pushed her plate away from her and leaned her elbows on the table.

"You are very polite. Why?" She asked.

"Is it wrong to be polite?" He countered.

"It's unusual." She said as she leaned on the table.

"Do you often question those who attempt to be polite? Perhaps this is why they quickly drop the act and become as harsh as you wish them to be." She drew back quickly and let her green eyes flicker over his face.

"You frown in your sleep." She said as if it were a some point she could hold against him. His eyes grew cold as he looked her over.

"Perhaps I took a liking to you far too soon." She felt her breath catch in her throat and she wanted to hold it there.

"It's curious." She said as she leaned back on the table. "You are so composed awake but in sleep you frown. Do you ever frown in your waking moments from slumber?" She asked bitterly. Their eyes locked and for a moment a tense air settled over the table. She could see the frame of his body beneath his fresh suit and she felt excitement mount in her chest. His meal arrived and they did not part glances. "You're angry." She announced as she placed her chin her hands. "It's very becoming." She added, her gaze roving his maroon eyes with a hurried desire.

He drew back from her. "You crave emotion." He said humbly as he raised his brow gently in question. "Do you crave chaos?"

"Nothing is as beautiful." She said as she licked her lips. They sat quietly and she looked out the window waiting for something.

So quiet she couldn't be sure, he spoke. "You have no idea how beautiful it can be."


	6. Doppelherz

Chapter Six: Doppelherz

Isabelle trailed her fingertips along the wooden panels in the corridor. She let her fingers hit every bump and relished the feeling of excitement turning her stomach. She hummed the melodies of a medley of Bowie songs and flicked back her brown hair when it got in her way.

"_Didn't know what time it was, the lights were low...There's a starman waiting in the sky_

_He'd like to come and meet us_

_But he thinks he'd blow out minds..."*_

She sang, letting it hit her again and again. She had felt this feeling of destructive attraction before. She had craved the relish with which it released passion from both parts. She could feel Hannibal Vitlatvi falling in her trap. She knew he was intelligent but he didn't know the horrors that coursed through her veins. She loved the pain of chaos and she loved the revulsion and anger she caused in those she felt attraction to. His calm exterior was easily taunting her and she found her energy battering against her chest.

She was determined to make this the most memorable train ride she had ever taken. He did not know what he had played into when he stepped into that compartment. She would push him until he broke and she would relish the pain he dished out. Her masochism was ripe and it was unashamed.

When she finally returned to the compartment she found him sketching quietly in the corner. He did not look up when she entered. She did not speak when she sat. She carefully followed his movement from the edge of her vision. Bowie still sprang from her throat in melodic hums.

_"Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth..."** _She sang and stopped abruptly when he glanced up at her sharply. She stared at him in return. Electricity coursed between them and she repressed her urge to shiver. "You know, you are quite able to tell me to be quiet, if you want."

"If you would, please." He said politely as he went back to his drawing. She boldly stood from her side of the compartment and sat beside him.

"What is it?" She asked as she looked down on it. It was a rolling landscape with a large, intricately designed castle placed in the forefront. The shadings made her want to reach out and touch them.

"A place I once knew." He said as he continued.

"I didn't mean to upset you." She said as she watched his hand work. "You're very talented." She added after a moment. "Is this all from memory?"

"Yes."

"How old?"

"Old enough to be remarkable." He said.

"I paint in abstracts sometimes." She confided as she cocked her head to watch him work. He paused and looked up at her. "Do you want me to stop watching you?" She asked. He did not reply, only continued to look at her. "I used to draw in charcoals, portraits and landscapes too." She said as she mumbled on. "No where near as good as you, but good enough, I guess."

"Something is troubling you." He said as he set his drawing aside and stared her in the eye.

"No." She said quickly. "I just feel a bit awful about breakfast this morning."

"I think you quite enjoyed it." He noted as he traced her face with his eyes.

"Maybe." She said sheepishly. "Could you draw me?" She asked as she moved back to her side of the compartment.

"I could." He said. "What do you paint?"

"Nudes." She said abruptly as she let her brown hair down. She pulled off her sweater, revealing the tight T-shirt that clung to her small curves, the soft turns of her breasts. "Couples, mostly."

"Engaged in acts of fellatio?" He questioned.

"Perhaps." She said unashamed. "It depends on what they want. Sometimes on what I want."

"Homosexual lovers?" he pressed further. She wondered if he thought she was a lesbian.

"Not often." She concluded. "Why?" She asked. She stopped herself from asking if he wanted one done for a lover.

"You seem unashamed with sex. As such, I would assume homosexual love would not embarrass you."

"It doesn't." She agreed. "Would you draw me?" She asked as she leaned back in her seat.

"You want me to?" He seemed unprepared for such a request.

"If you would." She smiled lightly. "No pressure. You can say no, if you want." He shook his head.

"If you would like me to I would be honored. Perhaps when I am finished with this." He said as he picked up his drawing and went back to work.

"Thank you." She said as she lazily trailed a finger through her hair.

After half an hour she stood and went out into the corridor. She leaned against the wall and watched people walk up and down the hall. The two young women she had encountered the previous night walked by her and stopped. They looked back and giggled for a moment. One, a lanky blonde, approached her.

"Hello." She said in a thick French accent. "I can ask you a question?"

Isabelle shot an eyebrow up. "Shoot." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. The blonde looked back to her companion who nodded. She leaned in toward Isabelle.

"The man you are with? He is with you or no?" Isabelle furrowed her brow, trying to understand. "I mean to ask, is he your husband, or no? Your lover?"

Isabelle let out a laugh that was light and tinkling. It sounded soft and melodic in her ears. "No." She said. "No." She repeated. "Why? Are you interested?"

The blonde shook her head. "My friend is incredibly. She likes older men."

"Oh." Isabelle said with a smile. "Well, he's not mine so, you can do as you want."

The blonde smiled and held out her hand. "Odette." She offered.

"Isabelle."

"This is Giselle." She said waving a hand at her golden tressed friend. Giselle studied her for a moment before her blue eyes twinkled. She seemed to think Isabelle was no real competition. This bothered Isabelle some but she brushed it off. Odette nodded. "We will see you in the dinner compartment?" She asked hopefully, friendly. Isabelle nodded. Odette walked away and waved at Isabelle as she Giselle disappeared into their compartment.

When Isabelle entered her own again Hannibal was sitting silently. He seemed lost in thought. "How are you?" She asked as she plopped down across from him.

"Pleasant." He said oddly.

"The two French girls down the corridor are interested in you." She said, trying to hide her slight jealousy. "The smaller blonde one, Giselle, seems quite smitten with you."

"Ah, quite wonderful." He said unconcerned. "Would you like to go to dinner?"

"It's hardly five, yet." She said as she looked at him.

"Would you?"

"Are you alright?" She pressed again.

He nodded and stood. "Chaos calls." He said, holding out a hand. She took it. Her hand tingled in his and she loved it.

---

* "Starman", David Bowie

** "Rock 'N' Roll Suicide," David Bowie


	7. Laws of Attraction

Chapter Seven: Laws of Attraction

Hannibal was well aware of women. He knew things about them. He knew that the French Giselle squirmed in her seat with anticipation thinking of him. He knew that her companion Odette could care less. He knew that the slightly older English woman at the bar in the dining compartment was thinking that he reminded her of someone who had once been on the news. He was well aware that Isabelle Reiner was discovering her own unbearable attractions to him. This he wanted to avoid.

Petty things such as attractions could be easily used against one another. He did not want to have to use this against her. He did not want to crush her fragile smile with the harsh truth that he was not attracted to her. She was attractive, yes. She was also young and unthinking in her motions. She rushed headlong into things. She did not plan. She did not use her brain. This was unattractive.

Dinner was mostly silent. He could feel her retreating into a shell as the time passed without conversation. She was already second guessing herself. They were almost through when Giselle and her friend entered. Giselle cast Isabelle a disheartening look and Hannibal was aware that his own companion was unaware of it. She seemed utterly absorbed with her emptying plate.

She seemed cautious now, devoid of the zeal with which she had pestered him earlier. He wondered if her personality faded each night.

"'Ello." A petite French voice said from beside him. He glanced to see the equally petite Giselle standing beside him.

"Why hello." He said pleasantly. He was aware of the sharp look Isabelle shot at him.

"How is ze food?" She asked dumbly. He smiled at her.

"Quite wonderful."

"I had 'oped you would 'ave not been finishing." She said as she put on an attractive pout. Isabelle's foot tapped underneath the table.

"Is that so?" He asked calmly as he continued to smile at her. Giselle nodded. "Would you like to accompany me to the bar, then?" He asked politely. He watched her blue eyes widen with excitement. She glanced once at the fuming Isabelle.

"Is zat alright?" She asked him as she studied Isabelle's face. A mask of calm collectedness had shrouded her thin, pale face and he was amused at her control.

"Quite so." He stood and leaned down over Isabelle. He whispered in her ear and watched her body tense. "Don't worry, my dear, nothing will happen." He placed a hand on her small shoulder and felt her bony body in his grasp. It took some effort to remove his hand from her and walk away.

In the end Giselle was as annoying as he had thought she was. He excused himself after half an hour and waited until he saw her pick up a tanned Italian man. He followed them silently back to Giselle's compartment and hid in the shadows as they shut the door loudly. After a few moments noises leaked out of the compartment. He was aware of his own compartment door opening. For a moment he watched Isabelle's pale face glowing in the darker end of the corridor. She slowly shut the door and the lights inside went out.

---

When he opened the door he was aware that she was awake. She was facing away from the door and looking longingly out of the window. He was quickly understanding it was a favorite past-time of hers. "Lovely night." He said into the darkness. She did not turn. "It's quite nice in here with the lights turned off."

"I'm sure." She mumbled.

"Did I wake you?"

She shook her head. She wrapped a small blanket around her small shoulders. She had changed into a small night shift. Her tiny body was even more evident. He could crush her easily. "I assume you had a lovely evening." She said as she leaned her head on her knees which she had pulled up to her chest.

"Not as lovely as I would have preferred." He admitted. "The conversation was dull. Uninteresting."

"The sex made up for it?" She asked bluntly, her voice void of emotion. He smirked in the darkness.

"Jealousy is unbecoming." He said, a twinkling of his amusement leaking out.

"Whatever." She said as her youth gave way. "I am not jealous." She added forcefully.

"Do you dream much?" He asked as he sat down across from her.

"Do you?" She countered as she shot him a dirty look. It was too dark for her to see that his person was very much as she had left it, not a hair out of place.

"This is rather unfair, I do believe." He said unconcerned.

"What do you mean." She shot back angrily.

"I do believe I have done nothing to warrant this anger from you. You were quite happy earlier."

"I-" She cut herself off and fell silent. "Jealousy is unbecoming." She muttered as she shook her brown waves about her head. He watched the strands flutter in the moonlight.

"Train gossips and drama are not suitable for my age, I'm afraid." He said as he leaned in toward her. She stiffened. "I did not sleep with Giselle." he said closely to her. "I can promise you that." She turned, her green eyes haunting in the dark. He knew that she believed him. He could sense her relief. He could also smell the salty tears that lingered in her hair as well as a strong whiff of vodka.


	8. Kisses for the Cunning

Chapter Eight: Kisses For The Cunning

Isabelle could not sleep that night. She was sure that Hannibal could not either but eventually she heard his breathing even out and she glanced over at him sleeping. He had arranged himself carefully facing her. He had been studying her as well.

She wondered if he felt anything for her. She, herself, had not expected to feel so angry and sorrowful when Giselle had swooped in. She wanted Hannibal for her own, she knew that. Still, she had not thought it would sting quite so much when he had left with the blonde girl. Her plans were out of control now. She did not know what she wanted of this train companionship anymore. There was something mysterious and alluring about him. Something that made her heart race.

His face seemed calm in the moonlight and she wanted to reach across and touch his cheek. She wanted to press her nose against his body and soak up the soft smells of the soaps he used. She wanted to steal his sketchbook and memorize his own memories. She wanted something she didn't understand.

She thought about her father saying she was a terrible flirt like her mother. She remembered the way he told her she needed to be more controlled over her emotions and desires and to quit pestering for anger and confusion. Fresh tears slipped from her eyes and she kneeled on the floor beside Hannibal's sleeping form. She bowed her head over and let her hair fall in the way. Her small body sobbed painfully and she struggled to keep it silent. Eventually she was able to control herself and she lifted her head to see her new companion still asleep soundly.

She took a finger and gently placed it on his cheek. He did not stir and she removed it as quickly as she had put it there. It was some moments before she was aware that his red eyes were looking at her in the darkness. She jumped up, startled. He too rose into a sitting position. They sat in silence for a moment, nothing being said.

"My father and his family hate me." She said as she blinked. "They call me Izzy and say I am too much like my tramp of a mother. He says I am too willing to give into sexual gratification. His wife says I am too willing to seduce hapless men into my plans. She believes that I do everything just to feel pain and see which of us, me or my lover, will cry out first." She paused to breath. "There's a lot of truth in that, I think. I'm not an awfully good person. I enjoy pain in others. I like watching them squirm uncomfortably in their spots. Even more I like my own pain. Do you know why?"

"You have been hiding the pain over your mother's death." He concluded evenly. She shook her head.

"Probably. But maybe it's not as simple as that. Maybe I'm just one of those few people who love the chaos of confusion. Maybe I'm just one of those people who feels stronger after pain and heartbreak have been handed out."

He was silent, she knew his mind was working.

"My mother once told me that she knew I'd be great. She said she knew I would capture one man, the only man, who remained uncaught by his own desires. I would bring him to his knees. Maybe that's what I'm trying to prove all the time."

Hannibal was silent still. "Am I strange for saying all of this?"

"You are trying to warn me and there is no need. You do not know who I am. You do not know what I have done. We are mere strangers that share a compartment. I will not pester you for answers. I will expect none. Information is valuable. I could have deduced as much as what you have just told me. You are unforgivingly obvious in your actions.

"You make bluntness take on a new definition. Your constant strive for conflict has little effect on me. You are tying, even now, to throw something in my path. What for? I have not claimed to have any particular attraction to you. I have not made a move on you." His voice was becoming harsher. "I am not at all attracted to you. You're rash and unthinking. It can be admirable in a person of more character but you don't use it to your advantage. You blunder through life like an unwieldy beast running through an unkempt land.

"I do not find random chaos attractive. I do not find indecisive actions alluring. I find them brash and harsh and ugly in pure light. You are a child in your years and your mind will keep you as such."

"What do you know of anything?" She spat back, ashamed. "What do you know of me? What do you know of my life?" She stood abruptly and attempted to tower over him. It was useless she knew. "You with your Vivaldi and Italian wines from Salice wherever. With your neatly pressed suits and carefully composed face. You have no right to judge me! You are a mask within yourself. Do you even know what you hide from? With all of your impressive talents and tastes, who are you trying to fool?"

"Do not attempt to play my game, Isabelle." He said curtly. "You have no years of this experience pinned to you. You are ignorant and uncertain. You're clutching at straws out of thin air. Truths hurt when brandished at you so readily. Is this what you run from? Your dear old father, he can see right through all your little games and pinpoint you to a T. This hurts, doesn't it. Little Izzy's never safe from people seeing through her. You're as invisible as air, Izzy. You can go through motions that seem normal but you don't understand a thing about who you are. You don't understand a thing about why you do things. Nor do you understand a thing about any other being." He stopped to breath in the smell of her fear.

A sob broke out. She did not see a slight grimace cross his face as it pierced him unwillingly. He looked to see Isabelle with her hands covering her delicate face. He did not continue. The damage she had wanted was done, they both knew this. He watched as she turned her back on him and grasped above her for her luggage. It tumbled down and she just barely made it out of the way before it crashed on the ground. A strong smell of vodka leaked into the room. She seemed not to notice.

She yanked it off the floor and grabbed her blanket and pillow from off her makeshift bed. Without warning she spun on him again and glared at him strongly. "Say it again." She demanded. He looked at her, unmoving, complacent in the scene he had caused. "Say it again!" She screamed.

"I am not attracted to you." He said evenly as he watched her with his red eyes. She shivered and snatched up her suitcase. She slammed open the compartment door and disappeared down the dark corridor, leaving him sitting in silence and the smell of alcohol.


	9. Fin for a Time

Chapter Nine: Fin For A Time

Hannibal watched her from the opposite side of the dining compartment. She neither noticed him nor attempted to. She seemed absorbed in her misery and her empty plate of toast. She trailed a finger through the crumbs. She looked shabby and uncertain. Her hair was a mess around her and dark bags rested under her eyes. Her clothes were shifted around her frame uneasily as if she had thrown on the first dry thing she could find.

He sipped his coffee expectantly as he watched the taller French girl settle herself in front of Isabelle. The dining compartment was quiet enough that he could make out traces of their conversation.

"You are not alright, no?" The French girl asked, concerned. Hannibal wondered how long they had been familiar. A day at the most.

"I'm fine." She said unconvincingly.

"It is the Giselle and your man thing, no?" Isabelle's green eyes shot up with worry.

"No. He's not _my_ man." She spat angrily. "No." She said more gently.

"He is not here with you today. A fight?"

"I don't really know him, you know." Isabelle said harshly again. "We just shared a compartment."

"I saw your face when Giselle took him away to the bar." The French girl said as she tapped the side of her nose. Isabelle's face drained of what color was there and she hid her face behind her hands for a moment. "He is not you man?"

"No." She said again, frustrated.

"They did not sleep together, you know?"

"I don't care if they did." Isabelle replied absently.

"They slept together." The French girl said guiltily.

Hannibal watched with amusement as Isabelle's wide eyes shot to her face again. He could see the tenseness of her spine. She leaned forward over the table studying the French girl intimately. He watched strands of soft brown hair fall in the way of her face and she pushed them back with annoyance. Her lips moved but he could not hear it for the clang of a waiter dropping a tray of water glasses near his table. He shot an annoyed look at the waiter.

When he looked back the French girl was standing and patting Isabelle's shoulder gently. "You know, Isabelle, he said it truthfully. They did not sleep together." Her heavy accent sounded full of pity and he watched Isabelle's stunned face as she walked away.

---

The compartment smelled and he did not want to go back but there was little else to do. He could not sit in the dining room any longer. He needed quiet. He needed his thoughts to line up in order.

The door was ajar when he got back and he hesitated a moment before he pushed it open. Isabelle was sprawled on her side, her face filled with exhaustion. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was even and her arm was draped over her eyes.

He pinched his nose to block the smell as he sat down. A few hours longer and he could be rid of this entire affair.

He took down his drawings and went to work. His hand was quick as it flew over a fresh page. Lines quickly took shape. Dark edges and soft smudges splintered the page's gentle smoothness. Hollows of cheeks took form, large eyes flew into the scene. The smell of the vodka didn't much bother him as he worked.

The tendons of a turned neck appeared and just before Isabelle's eyes flicked open, he had completed his task. She did not look at him though they were both aware she knew he was there. She stared at the ceiling and did not speak.

Train rides, he decided at that moment, were no longer worth it. Entertaining in the beginning, they quickly lost their appeal. The tugging of the train could quickly be overcome by the tugging of something much more internal. Something neither companion of simple compartment wanted.

She had amused him in the beginning but her rush into damage was brutal to watch, even for him. She couldn't be salvaged. She did not want to be. A waste of a mind that could have been something spectacular. A pitiful excuse and exercise in upbringing and mentality.

They rode in absolute silence while the train tugged the last bit into Berlin. As it slid into the platform he saw her sit and look at him once. He stood and held out a hand. She hesitantly took it. He slipped the drawing into her other hand. Her eyes traced his face for some clue.

He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. "Lecter." He whispered as he placed his lips gently on her ear. Then he turned and scooped up his belonging and disappeared out of the corridor and out of sight.

---

On the train platform, Isabelle stood with her suitcase by her feet. Clenched in her hands was the drawing of her that Hannibal had completed. Her ear still tingled from the feel of his lips on the skin.

Scrawled across the bottom of the drawing was a name. A name she had not thought much of in her entire life. It brought up foggy memories of something she could barely recall. Memories of her mother telling her about a monster. Of trashy tabloid headlines. It brought back fleeting glimpses of FBI agents and brief mentions and a one-time scandalous affair of an escape. An escape that never resulted in a capture. It summoned the image of the mystery she had pondered over for the past few days.

Across the bottom of the drawing, _Hannibal Lecter_.

She glanced about her in a wide-eyed search that profited nothing. She brought the drawing to her heart and held it there for a moment. His final word to her spun around in her mind. _"Lecter."_

She brought the sketch to her lips. "Hannibal Lecter." She whispered into it. "The end for now."

---

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading this incredibly short fanfic. I made this entire thing in a couple of days really. My current intention is to have it continue on in a series. I've already started with the second book. Hopefully you liked reading it Nulle Part and will look for the second part, Clairvoyance, soon!


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